Page 146 of The Wrong Play

All that mattered was the way he was looking at me—the way he always looked at me. Like I was something fragile but untouchable, something wild but his to protect.

Jace pushed off the doorframe and stalked toward the bed with slow, measured steps. He sank down beside me, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, and he didn’t speak.

He just waited.

For me to tell him the truth. For me to trust him with it.

But I still couldn’t bring myself to do it.

So instead, I did something reckless. Something desperate.

I reached for him.

My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and before he could react, before I could think better of it, I kissed him, panicked and frantic, like I needed him to tether me before I drifted into the abyss.

Jace made a noise of surprise against my lips, but he didn’t hesitate.

His hands came up, rough and warm and grounding, framing my face as he kissed me back, consuming me, like he was trying to pull every unspoken word from my tongue.

I climbed into his lap without thinking, my knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips, my hands threading through his damp hair as his fingers dug into my waist.

I didn’t want to think.

I didn’t want to feel the way Callum’s presence was crawling under my skin like poison.

I wanted this. Wanted Jace.

His touch, his warmth, the way he always made me feel like I was something worth protecting.

His grip tightened, his lips parting like he was about to say something, but I beat him to it, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

“Do you mean it?” I whispered against his mouth, breathless, desperate.

His fingers flexed against my skin at my question, his lips hovered over mine, just an inch away.

“When you sayalways. Do you mean it?”

Jace pulled back just enough to look at me, really look at me.

His warm brown eyes—wild and molten in the soft glow of the lamp—searched mine, trying to piece together what was unraveling inside me. Then, he exhaled, the sound rough, raw, like it physically hurt him that I even had to ask. He reached up, brushing his knuckles along my jaw, a touch so tender it nearly broke me.

“Riley.”

His voice was deep and steady, but there was an edge to it, something fierce, something unshakable. “Alwaysisn’t something I just say.”

My throat tightened.

“But—”

He cut me off.

“No.” His grip on my waist tightened, like he could physically hold me together, keep me from slipping away into whatever storm was raging inside my head. “You don’t get to doubt that. Not with me.”

His other hand found the back of my neck, his thumb brushing soothing circles against my skin, his hold firm but gentle, like he was tethering me to this moment.

I closed my eyes, swallowing down the lump in my throat, willing my body to believe him.

But Callum’s voice still echoed in my ears.

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